


When you move I could never define all that you are to me

by somnum365



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Chandler is not a virgin but definitely demisexual/grey-ace, Consensual Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, OCD, Post-Season/Series 04, Weird Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 03:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnum365/pseuds/somnum365
Summary: Some would say that the way Kent and Chandler had sex was odd. Not normal. Unhealthy, even. Chandler got overwhelmed in those moments, almost paralyzed. He could feel it, and enjoyed it, but it was difficult for him to actively participate. Kent had asked him about it after the first time, and Chandler had assured him that it had been good for him—too good, even. This was not Chandler’s area of expertise, which made him anxious, and he couldn’t make a decision when he was overcome by physical stimuli, so he needed Kent to take charge. It wasn’t a hardship. Kent was happy to do it, as long as he knew Chandler was enjoying it as much as he was.aka, chandler and kent have weird but good sex because come on, do you really think joseph "i'm a very particular man" chandler wouldn't have specific emotional and hygienic needs in the bedroom too?





	When you move I could never define all that you are to me

Some would say that the way Kent and Chandler had sex was odd. Not normal. Unhealthy, even. Chandler got overwhelmed in those moments, almost paralyzed. He could feel it, and enjoyed it, but it was difficult for him to actively participate. Kent had asked him about it after the first time, and Chandler had assured him that it had been good for him—too good, even. This was not Chandler’s area of expertise, which made him anxious, and he couldn’t make a decision when he was overcome by physical stimuli, so he needed Kent to take charge. It wasn’t a hardship. Kent was happy to do it, as long as he knew Chandler was enjoying it as much as he was. 

It had become a way for Chandler to step outside of his mind for a moment and trust that he would be taken care of. From a young age, Chandler had been forced to take care of everything in his life. Every detail needed to be accounted for and set in its correct place, and this had to be done by Chandler because no one else was going to do it for him. Now, he had Kent to share the burden, and what a relief it was.

And anyway, was anything about their relationship going to be normal? Neither of them conformed to societal standards on their own, why would this be different? 

They would take their clothes off and hang, fold, or throw them in the hamper as needed. Once they were naked, Kent would urge Chandler to lay flat on their bed. Then Kent would sit astride him, cradle his face between his hands, and lean down to plant a soft, slow kiss on Chandler’s mouth. The first breath Chandler took after Kent’s lips met his own was like breathing in calm and breathing out all of his tension and stress in a shaky exhale. From there, Kent was in control, and Chandler was relieved to give it up. 

They trusted each other. Kent trusted that Chandler was silent out of pleasure, not pain or fear. Chandler trusted that Kent would guide him in this area where Chandler had little experience, and that the encounter would be pleasurable.

(And it always was, far more so than Chandler had ever believed it could be for him. It finally felt like how his mates and the media had portrayed it: satisfying, intimate without being uncomfortable, and, more than anything, fucking hot. God, Chandler had waited so long to be absolutely overwhelmed with lust for a partner. And Kent had been in front of his nose for years? Just waiting to be allowed to suck little love bites into the section of skin on Chandler’s neck that Kent knew the collar of his crisp shirt would just barely hide? And Chandler would feel comfortable in his own body despite having another naked form pressed against his own because the sensation of familiar skin pressed against him was so viscerally good that he forgot he ever shied away from the possibility of it?)

It was a nice role-reversal. Kent was in charge, and Chandler went where he was led. Kent made sure everything stayed as clean as possible despite the inherently messy nature of the acts, and Chandler trusted him enough to let go of his worries, if temporarily. 

Kent would prepare himself: that was part of the deal. Chandler loved him, and wanted to be able to stretch Kent himself, but he couldn’t get over the hygiene aspect of it. They had tried once, with Chandler wearing latex gloves, and Chandler had found it tolerable, but the point of this was for Chandler to get away from his stressors. Kent admitted that he, too, had been more stressed than relaxed by the activity, constantly checking to see if Chandler was handling it well. So they tried it only the one time, and agreed it would be better for Kent to prepare himself. 

(Chandler loved watching Kent finger himself, legs open wide as he sat in Chandler’s lap, mouth alternating between being screwed up in concentration and open on a wide O that was sometimes preceded by a J sound, eyes fluttering shut as he rode his fingers in a teasing preview of what he was about to do to Chandler.)

When Kent felt that he was stretched well enough, he would slip his fingers out and wipe them on an antibacterial wipe they kept a box of nearby for just such a purpose. Having rolled condoms onto both of them, Kent lined himself up and raised his hips before lowering them back down again, slowly sliding himself onto Chandler’s cock. 

(And Chandler would suck in a quick breath and long to scream out his pleasure at such a simple yet hitherto virtually unknown sensation, but he couldn’t, and Kent knew that and it was okay and he was okay but no he was so much more than okay, he was so good he was so good oh God). Kent steadied himself with his hands on Chandler’s chest, the man laying flat on his back and gazing up at Kent with an intensity that Kent never got used to. 

Kent reached down to move Chandler’s hands—fisting the sheets like a lifeline—to Kent’s hips. (His bony hips, like perfectly formed handles that Chandler could never remember that he wanted to hold before his brain and body disconnected, but Kent knew, Kent always knew. Kent’s skin was soft and smooth under Chandler’s fingers, another incredible sensation to add to his overload.) Chandler dug in just as tightly here, making Kent moan and move faster to match his partner’s desperation. 

Kent could hardly believe his luck sometimes. He had pined for years, desperately hoping that Chandler would take notice and reciprocate his feelings. He spent those years growing and maturing, often learning things the hard way. His confidence grew, as did his knowledge base, and soon he barely had to look at Chandler before he knew what he was supposed to do next to further the inquiry. This was what finally caught Chandler’s eye: Kent was no longer a shy, fresh-faced DC who needed instruction, but a partner. It sometimes seemed like Kent could read his mind, like he knew what Chandler needed before he knew himself. He was an equal, in practice if not in rank. The transition into a romantic and then a sexual relationship was natural—more natural than Chandler had thought possible for him. 

And now, Kent rode him like it was the first time; like he was still releasing his years of pent-up desire. (Their first time had been explosive, Kent moving like Chandler would tell him to stop if he slowed down even for a moment, his hands roaming over Chandler’s body like he was cramming for a test and his notebook was about to be set on fire; desperate to commit as much to memory as he could. Chandler had been shocked, truly, that anyone could feel that passionately about him and shocked, truly, that he felt the same way about Kent. He had come faster than he would have liked to admit, but Kent hadn’t seemed to mind, releasing a moan so loud and personal like it had been Kent who had spent within a minute and not the man inside of him. Kent had followed soon after and then spent so much time covering Chandler with kisses and well-placed touches that round two came before their shower.) 

Kent’s hands grasped at Chandler’s chest, thumbs rubbing over sensitive nipples. Chandler couldn’t be sure if he was making noise or not, he was too focused on Kent on top of him and Kent smooth and warm around his cock and Kent bare and beautiful and so alive despite everything. Kent shifted enough for Chandler’s cock to hit his prostate dead-on, making him whine high in his throat. It sent a spark of hot lust rolling through Chandler, his hips thrusting up from the bed once involuntarily. Kent moaned at that, as he always did when Chandler was able to break out of his paralyzed state and more actively participate in their lovemaking. 

(And Chandler was pretty sure he was saying Kent Kent Kent out loud by now, but he couldn’t be sure, he could never be sure, couldn’t feel his own vocal cords moving for the encompassing feeling of their sweaty limbs slipping against each other and the puffs of breath on his chest and his stomach as Kent leaned forward and down to look at them coming together and the idea that Kent wanted to look at where they were joined together so badly that he would contort his body to chase the whim and the warmth of his body surrounding him and Kent Kent Kent.)

Chandler was close. The mere sight of his partner flushed in the throes of passion would be enough to get him there, never mind the feeling of him. He summoned enough presence of mind to squeeze his hands tighter around Kent’s hips to try to signal this to him. Kent moaned and tossed his head back, dark curls bouncing with the movement, and changed the motion of his hips to a dirty figure-eight. This change of sensation pushed Chandler over the edge. (It was incredible every time, otherworldly. Chandler didn’t believe in magic or miracles but every time Kent coaxed a bone-deep orgasm from him he got a little bit closer). Freed, unlocked, loosened by the wave of his pleasure, he pulled Kent’s hips down to meet his own and held them there as he filled the condom. Kent whined and squirmed, trying to get as much friction against his prostate as he could before Chandler slipped out. Kent brought a hand to his dick and worked himself hard, spilling quickly into his own condom. 

Kent rolled off of him and collapsed onto the bed at Chandler’s side. He removed both of the condoms and reached for a tissue to wrap them in before tossing them into the plastic-lined bin, grabbing another to wipe off any residue left behind. He rolled back over and peppered kisses up Chandler’s chest, neck, and finally his mouth. Chandler was relaxed enough that he could kiss back, lips moving against Kent’s slowly and lovingly. When they finally broke apart, they got up and walked to Chandler’s huge glass shower. (Kent didn’t need to ask if Chandler wanted to shower, not even the first time. He just knew, and it had been such a relief to Chandler not to have to ask and risk insulting Kent with the implication that he needed to wash Kent off of his body. Kent knew him, and that was the only way this could ever have worked for Chandler.) They cleaned themselves and each other, stopping more than once to press kisses with not a little tongue onto newly cleaned skin and into soon-to-be-brushed mouths, dried off, and climbed back into bed. 

Kent curled himself into Chandler’s chest, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of this man he spent so long pining over. Chandler wrapped his arms around Kent and held him close. He had something precious that Chandler had been waiting his entire adult life for; not only understanding but acceptance and love. Kent knew every flaw, every quirk, and every compulsion that Chandler had, and he loved him not despite, not because of, but in harmony with, all of these attributes. 

Chandler let out a deep breath, one that he had been holding for far too long, and drifted off to sleep peacefully.


End file.
